Yang Haoran’s tireless plowing of Aunt He’s exquisite field went without saying. Every now and then, he would deliver a resounding slap to her eye-catching, massive breasts for added thrill. Watching the snow-white flesh of her bosom flush with red handprints only fueled his excitement, prompting him to thrust even harder.
Abusing his own mother’s perfect tits was thrilling, but it always left him with a pang of guilt afterward. With Aunt He, Wei Ming’s mother, there was no such worry.
Thus, his enthusiasm soared. The room filled with the lewd symphony of flesh slapping flesh, punctuated by the sharp cracks of her ample breasts being smacked, building to a frenzied crescendo like a sadistic revelry.
Her towering, cloud-like snowy peaks swayed like willows battered by a storm, tilting this way and that. Ripples cascaded through the fatty waves of her breasts, their jade-like white skin now tinged with a rosy blush.
……
Meanwhile, in Wei Ming’s room.
The lights were off, plunging the space into darkness, but Wei Ming lay wide awake on the soft bed.
His hands were clasped behind his head, eyes half-closed in the blackness. Though he couldn’t see into the next room, faint sounds drifted to his ears—the creak of a bed, but more prominently, the unmistakable smack of naked bodies colliding.
The room was deathly quiet, every pin drop audible, making the noises from next door all the more piercing.
“That damn Rat… couldn’t he keep it down? How am I supposed to sleep?”
Wei Ming gritted his teeth in irritation, grabbing a pillow to smother his face, as if that could block it all out.
But even with his face covered and eyes shut, the sounds grew bolder, practically cheering in triumph.
Wei Ming had no idea these were the noises from Rat abusing his mother’s breasts; he just figured his buddy was being too rowdy.
The “demonic cacophony” bored into his ears and straight to his brain. Though he saw nothing, his mind raced with vivid images from the mature woman porn he’d watched—AV actresses with pale, delicate bodies, full heaving breasts, plump upturned asses, quivering waves of flesh, and tousled hair swaying wildly.
Behind them, the buff male leads gripped those fat asses, thrusting their hips shamelessly, their lewd sounds echoing as if right beside him.
Gradually, the scenes in Wei Ming’s head took on familiar faces: the female lead morphed into his mother, He Muchen, while the man behind her became his so-called best friend Yang Haoran, grinning with that sleazy, perverted smirk.
Wei Ming had never hated Haoran’s handsome face more. It left him utterly distraught.
This whole situation was one he’d pushed into existence, yet now it soured in his gut, like being roasted alive over an open flame. No matter what, he couldn’t calm down.
Even if the mental movie was just from porn he’d seen, unrelated to the next room, Wei Ming knew full well that his buddy Yang Haoran was pounding his beautiful mother, reveling in her ripe, seductive body and scorching curves.
For a virgin like Wei Ming, it was pure torture. How could he possibly sleep?
In frustration, he flung the pillow aside and buried his head under the covers…
……
Back in the next room.
Yang Haoran’s cock reveled in waves of soul-melting friction—soft, slick, and utterly addictive!
He bucked his hips mechanically, his thick, long shaft plunging relentlessly into He Muchen’s core. The flared head scraped her plump mound, while the veined length ground against her juicy labia.
The wet “schlick-schlick” of sticky fluids mingled with the “smack” of flesh on flesh, leaving her pussy a sopping mess that soaked the sheets where they joined.
He Muchen’s flushed, stunning face was framed by chestnut waves of hair, damp with sweat from her forehead and clinging to her cheeks in a picture of erotic beauty.
Though unconscious, her brows were relaxed, her intoxicating red lips slightly pursed in what seemed like pure bliss.
Only when Yang Haoran slapped her breasts did a flicker of pain crease her features, quickly drowned out by the mounting waves of pleasure from his thrusts.
“Slap, slap, slap…” The relentless, high-pitched slaps intensified.
Yang Haoran’s pounding grew heavier, his face flushed, breaths ragged. His cock pistoned rapidly into Aunt He’s sopping heat, the warm, enveloping softness making it feel like it might spark from the friction—hot, cozy, an indescribable rush of ecstasy.
“Huff… huff… Aunt He, you’re the ultimate fuck machine. This is blowing my mind.”
His pelvis slammed into her plush, upturned ass, the coronal ridge grinding her full mound like a roller.
Clap, clap, clap~
Each withdrawal and plunge brought tight, warm suction, her slick channel’s folds clamping down airtight, nearly snapping his dick and sending shivers up his spine. He lost himself completely in the bliss.
After thousands of strokes, it felt like he’d molded her pussy to his cock’s shape. The surging pleasure hit his brain like lightning, a tingling euphoria overwhelming him. With a guttural roar, Yang Haoran collapsed gasping onto He Muchen’s voluptuous form.
As the saying goes, a woman’s belly can wear out even the sturdiest ox—and Yang Haoran was living proof.
After catching his breath for a bit, he dove back into the grueling labor. That night, he bloomed several times more until the exhausted ox finally collapsed atop the fertile field.
Yang Haoran cradled Aunt He’s plush, warm body, holding her close as he drifted into a satisfied slumber.
It was already the dead of night, and in the next room, Wei Ming’s weary mind finally succumbed to sleep. Clutching his pillow alone, the last thought in his head was two bitter words: beast…
